To Get a Message of Pain
by organization MA
Summary: "If you write down something that troubles you, and stick it in a bottle, the trouble will be captured in the bottle. And to get rid of the trouble for good, you throw it into a sea or ocean." Spain/Romano Oneshot. Please Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1

**To Get a Message of Pain**

**A/N: Sorry for not posting anything for the longest time. I've been busy. *coughprocrastinatingcough* ^^;**

There was a slow shake of Romano's head, telling Spain quietly that the answer was 'no.'

"You've been quiet, Romano. Are you ok?" Spain asked the said boy. Romano had been quiet the whole morning and had just actually refused a tomato! "Is your tummy hurting?"

His normally puffy pink cheeks had turned a light shade of tomato red once Spain had spoken up about his quietness. Romano hesitated then shook his head, glaring at the Spaniard for saying, "tummy."

"Are you sure you don't want this tomato?" Spain asked again hoping to solve the problem by waving the tomato in front of Romano's face like a dog and a toy.

Romano gulped and refused the tomato again. He couldn't tell Spain that he wasn't hungry because he had stolen multiple cookies and seven tomatoes to eat before Spain had woken up. He might get in trouble!

_Thank you, you uncreative mind,_ Romano thought to himself. _Can't even think of an excuse, dammit!_

Spain frowned. This was not working, and something was definitely wrong with the small Italian. He'd have to try something new.

"Hey Romano," Spain said sitting down next to the boy, pulling him into his lap. The boy struggled a bit, making whimpering noises. "Did you know, if you write down something that troubles you, and stick it in a bottle, the trouble will be captured in the bottle?" Romano gave up his case of the Wiggles and sat in Spain's lap quietly, but still with silent complaints of the Spaniard's way of holding him, his absurd idea, and other small things like that. Spain noticed the boy's change and considered it a fact to continue. "And to get rid of the trouble for good, you throw it into a sea or ocean." He paused. "Would you like me to get you some paper and something to write with?"

Romano's face puffed up as his shook his head.

"A 'no' again, huh?" Spain sighed. This boy is confusing. "Well," he put Romano down and stood up, ignoring the head rush, "I guess I'll just go to the fields now. See you in a while, Romano." He patted the boy's head and walked away.

Once the back door had shut, Romano breathed out puff of air as if he was holding his breath. "Finally I can speak again." The only reason Romano had been quiet was to keep his secret in. "It's that bastard's fault I don't get enough to eat at breakfast. But I guess having a lot of tomatoes and some cookies was a bad idea to eat in the morning…" Romano's stomach rumbled of fullness, agreeing with his statement.

_If you write down something that troubles you, and stick it in a bottle, the trouble will be captured in the bottle._ _And to get rid of the trouble for good, you throw it into a sea or ocean._

He's better find that paper and pencil.

* * *

Spain loved to watch the sunset at the beach. It was breathtaking. The last rays from the sun bounce off the blue-green water and make the water sparkle white. The pile of bottles, shining and sparkling- "Wait, what?" Spain gasped as he saw the pile of bottles at the edge of the water. Each was a various in size and color but every single one of them had a piece of paper in it. Spain picked one up and pulled out the paper, reading it aloud, "_I had seven tomatoes, and five cookies before the bastard woke up today_." Spain covered his mouth with his rough hands and sniffled.

He didn't know what he was crying over: that Romano had listened to him, or that all of these bottles were Romano's troubles.


	2. Omake

**OMAKE**

Romano scribbled the last few words he needed on the paper he held in his hand. He had to hurry or the bastard might see him!

"Ok, that's the last one…" Romano wiped his forehead with the back of his palm and shoved the paper into the bottle next to him. Standing, he ran out of his room and down the stairs, opening the door and running to the beach.

Once he got there, he bent over and caught his breath. Building his strength, he pulled his small arm back and threw it. Romano frowned when the bottle joined all the other bottles that accumulated at the water line.

Growling, he picked up two bottles and threw them into the water again but just like before, the water returned them to the shore.

"Shit!" The little boy threw the other bottle he held into the water at his feet in anger. "That bastard made it sound like it would fix everything! But NO! Apparently, I have to live with these stupid troubles!"

Romano plumped his body down at the shoreline, the water tickling his feet, tears appearing at the edges of his eyes.

"Does the world hate me or something?" Romano asked himself, playing with the sand next to him. He made a little sculpture made of sand (of course it wasn't as good as Veneziano would have been able to.) and watched as the water destroyed it.

"No!" Romano jumped up, scolding the water. "You think its funny mocking me? Take that!" He jumped onto the wave but as always, the water receded, making him land on sand.

"Dammit!" He cursed, trying again, and failing like before. A long string of curses slipped out of his mouth (which would make sailor cry.) as he kicked the sand, spreading it around.

Romano pouted and turned around, wiping the angry tears from his eyes. "…I better go home before Spain returns." Kicking the bottles, he turned around and listened to his stomach.

_Growl~_

He held his stomach and frowned. What the hell happened to the big breakfast I ate before?

He returned home, stole a dozen tomatoes, and planted himself on the couch to eat them all. Screw the table that Spain makes him eat at. He can sit on the couch and eat!

Finishing his last tomato, he fell into a deep sleep.

::~~::~~::~~::

"Romano!" waking up slowly, the said boy opened his eyes to see Spain shaking his shoulder.

The Italian groaned and shut his eyes again. "Go away…I was having a good dream, dammit…"

He's talking! That's good! The Spaniard was not shaken. "Romano, do you want to talk some things out?"

"No!" Romano said, his face, shoved into a crack in the couch. "I want to go back to sleep, dammit!"

Spain thought for a second. "I guess then I'll have to eat these _plump, freshly picked tomatoes_ all by myself, huh?"

Damn, Romano thought. I want those tomatoes…He lifted his head up to glare at the Spaniard. "I want one…"

Spain smiled. His trick worked! "What do you say, Romanito?"

Romano blushed when Spain said his pet name. "Give me a fucking tomato, Spain. I'm hungry."

Spain pursed his lips and picked up a tomato from his basket. "To get this tomato," Spain said pulling the tomato from Romano's grabbing hands, "you have to have an intelligent conversation with me, can you promise that?"

Romano didn't have to think about it. He jumped down from the couch, walked over to where Spain was, and stole three tomatoes from the basket. He stuffed one in his mouth and turned to walk away.

Such a little brat! Spain gritted his teeth. He reached out with his spare hand and picked up the little boy. "Romano, let's go for a walk."

The rest of the unbitten tomato fell from Romano's lips and it hit the ground. "What the fuck are you doing? I don't want to be with you right now!"

"I'm your Boss, so you have to do what I say." Spain said. He placed his tomato back into the basket and started to walk out of the house, with Romano thrashing about in his grasp. "We're going to the beach." Romano stopped thrashing for a second.

Fuck! He cursed in his head. He resumed flailing and struggling. "No! I don't wanna'!"

Spain started to feel bad for the Italian. All the bottles, his forcing Romano to talk about them, him doing this and that. It seemed to be all Spain's fault. Now he was bringing him to a place he obviously didn't want to be…No! A Boss has to be strict at some point. But what about Romano's feelings? Spain was full of conflict. He continued walking to the beach.

When he got there, Romano was huffing and red-cheeked after thrashing for so long. Spain put the small child down, sure that he would not run away.

Spain sat on the sand next to Romano. "I know you don't want to talk about this, but you have to, eventually." He glanced at the pile of bottles as Romano did as well.

Romano blushed and plumped himself onto Spain's lap. Spain relaxed a little.

"It didn't work."

Spain looked at the bottles, then back at Romano. Spain started to speak but was cut off by Romano.

"They came back." It was a soft voice. "The tide pushed them back to me, dammit. I threw them as hard as I fucking could but they always came back!" He sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

Spain pulled the little Italian closer to him. Romano found a comfortable position leaning on Spain's chest, feeling his slow and steady breathing. He could look at the horizon from the position, without having to look at Spain.

"I hate this Sea; it's fucking retarded." He shut his eyes and puffed his cheek up.

"But Romano," Spain used the most calming voice he could muster, "Look at it. The Sea is beautiful. It touches nearly all the lands your grandfather possessed-" Romano glared at Spain for mentioning Grandpa Rome. Spain noticed this and stuttered. "And- err- but in the future, you'll grow up and be a big, strong nation, just like your grandfather, and err…" He thought a little. "You'll be a really good nation when you grow up, and you'll always be surrounded by this Sea, and if you're smart, you'll learn to enjoy it. Oceans and Seas are key to being a peninsula." Romano looked back at Spain then at the Sea.

"The Mediterranean is surrounded by land. Even if I threw the bottles out far enough that it didn't come back, it would reach another beach, and the problem would come back, right?"

Spain sighed. "It's a metaphor." Romano looked up at Spain, confused. Spain continued. "The Sea represented, let's say, a trash can and the bottles were kinda' like the memories of the troubles. The whole process of throwing the bottle into the ocean was to metaphorically end, or solve them." Romano looked back at the Sea. The sun was still setting, but it was generally darker. The sky was an orange hue near the horizon and a dark shade of blue directly overhead. "I can help pick them up, and I promise to not look at the papers~"

Romano puffed his cheeks up and hit Spain's shoulder. "Ti odio, bastardo."

Spain chuckled and ruffled Romano's hair. "That's Espana to you."


End file.
